


Psychiatrist

by Frankenmacchardee



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Missing Scene, POV Alternating, Soft Dennis Reynolds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:13:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29565936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frankenmacchardee/pseuds/Frankenmacchardee
Summary: My take on what happened at the psychiatrist office in Psycho Pete Returns, after Dennis ranted about putting Dee in a glass box.
Relationships: Dee Reynolds & Dennis Reynolds
Kudos: 11





	Psychiatrist

**Author's Note:**

> I haven’t written for IASIP before but I’ve been watching for ten years and write other comedy stuff so yeaaaah. Hope isn’t shit.

“What did you say your name was, sir?” the doctor interrupted Dennis and Dee’s inane arguing, beginning to jot something down in his notepad. 

They both paused, thrown by that rude interjection. They were in the middle of a profound conversation. Dee cunningly smirked, planning on introducing Dennis as someone new entirely. A Brian Lefevre situation, but better because Dee made it up instead of those turkeys. “Dennis.” Dennis stoically replied before Dee could concoct an interesting story. She huffed and rolled her eyes, kind of offended that her name hadn’t been asked.

“Have you ever been treated by a psychiatrist before, Dennis?” the doctor asked in a tone that verged on patronizing. Dennis felt that that attitude was entirely uncalled for. He wasn’t Charlie.

“No.” Dennis cockily scoffed, then paused to think. “Well, technically yes, but only because she was there.” Dennis pointed at Dee, subtly gesturing that she was crazy with a swirling finger to his ear. “We had some internal issues between our gang that needed to be resolved, but the doctor and I were simply _peers_ , you see, I studied psych at Penn.” Dennis confidently declared. Dee made a noise that called bullshit, so Dennis clenched his hands on the arms of the chair to try and stop himself from screaming at her again.

“He did psych as a minor, I did it as a _major_.” Dee placed a hand to her chest, proud of her almost achievement. The Street Car Named Desire voice had made another appearance.

“You didn’t finish it, you bitch!” Dennis roared. 

Yikes, Dee glanced over at Dennis and saw the veins protruding in his neck. That was a sure sign that he was in Golden God mode. She looked the doctor in the eye and made a subtle gesture that Dennis was crazy.

The doctor stared at Dennis with concern, still confused as to how these people managed to get into his office. Whatever the case, Dennis clearly had some issues that needed to be addressed ASAP; Dee was odd, but seemed to be a harmless attention seeker. “I assume you have health insurance?” 

“Naaaah, but Frank pays for everything, anything. He’s old as shit.” Dennis flippantly responded, as if the doctor knew who Frank was. Who the hell was Frank? The doctor decided that it didn’t matter, so long as Dennis could pay for treatment. 

“That’s true, that’s true.” Dee agreed. She theatrically blocked her mouth from Dennis’ sight and stage whispered “Frank paid for rehab...for the crack addiction.” to the doctor. Although Dee had also been to rehab for crack addiction, she had an innate desire to throw Dennis under the bus. He did it to her often enough.

“If you’re going to whisper, do it so I can’t hear it, otherwise you’re defeating the object of whispering!” Dennis exasperatedly exclaimed, tired of Dee’s terrible attempts at theatrics. “And don’t bring up crack, you know that makes me want crack!” Dennis whined, already craving crack. “Now I want crack, are you proud of yourself?!” 

Dee offendedly scoffed, forgetting the doctor was even there at this point. “You say that as if I don’t want crack too!”

“Stop saying crack!” Dennis yelled, twitching with intense irritation. “I will crack _you,_ I will-“ 

“Oh yeah, huh?” Dee mocked, for some reason in an appalling Boston accent. 

“I will crack your goddamn skull and display it in the glass box with your disgusting, bird flesh!” 

“Yeah? Well, I- I’ll... crack your asshole!” Dee retorted in a fluster.

“You’ll crack my asshole?” Dennis condescendingly repeated, leaning further towards Dee in his chair. “How does that work?! Explain to me how that works, Dee, I would love to know! I _beg_ of you to tell me! What are the logist-” 

“I- well, it- I would take a gu-“

The doctor loudly cleared his throat to break up this conversation. These people seemed to solely communicate via yelling over each other. “Dee,” the doctor smiled at her, bracing himself for something peculiar. “I think it would be beneficial if you stepped out of the room for a short while, we have a coffee machine in the waiting room that you’re wel-“

“Eeeeeh...” the twins muttered in unison, grimacing at the thought of Dee leaving.

“We’re kinda a package deal.” Dee pointed between herself and Dennis, to which he eagerly nodded. 

“I- jus-“ the doctor stuttered, wondering if he should call security after all. “You just...” he drawled, choosing his words carefully. “You don’t seem to like each other very much.” he cautiously stated, slowly moving his hand a tad closer to his phone incase this blew up in his face. 

“Oh, no, no, I hate her.” 

“Yeah, I hate him. Can’t stand the guy.” 

“She’s so annoying, always you know-“ Dennis repeatedly quacked like some kind of ambiguous bird. 

“And he-“ Dee tipped her head in the direction of Dennis. “Sometimes I think he’s gonna kill me, kill us all. And then he just said about the skin luggage...” Dee tutted thoughtfully. “Chopping me into piec- oh shit!” Dee cackled, excitedly turning to face Dennis. “Psycho Pete! That’s why we’re here, we’re here about Psycho Pete!” 

“Oooh!” Dennis gasped, also having forgotten why they had snuck into this office in the first place. “I honestly forgot all about him, I-“ 

“Yeah, the chopping me into pieces shit kinda got me g-“

Dennis flamboyantly gestured for Dee to shut the hell up, patronizingly hushing. “Shush, bird.” Dennis condescendingly whispered. She scowled and complied, accepting her place as the doormat. “The reason we’re here is because our fr- well... he’s not really our friend. A man. We’re here because a man who we were once acquainted with, many, many years ago... he...” Dennis drawled, forgetting why the hell they were here. It was something to do with Psycho Pete, though he wasn’t certain what. Perhaps they’d had one beer too many.

“He... he chopped his family up and ate ‘em.” Dee casually explained, also trying to recall what Psycho Pete had to do with this doctor. “And he... the asylum... they closed it!” Dee beamed as she remembered the tangent that had led them to this doctor’s office.

“Yeah, yeah!” Dennis agreeably pointed at Dee. “They closed the mental institution for the- the Eagles ground!” 

“Go Birds!” Dee triumphantly threw her fist in the air. Dennis chortled in a way that sounded almost genuine, which was as close as he got to emotions. 

With a cawing noise, Dennis leaned over his chair and fist bumped Dee, grinning as if he hadn’t just said some of the most disturbing things the doctor had ever heard. “Dee, I would really appreciate it if you stepped outside for a few moments.” the doctor reiterated, extremely keen to assess Dennis’ mental health properly. Dee was clearly a distraction. 

“Twenty dollars.” Dee bluntly bartered, willing to abandon Dennis for a fee. 

“Excuse me?” the doctor confusedly replied.

“Gimme twen’y dollars and I’ll go, doc.” Dee offered in an even worse Boston accent than earlier. 

Nervously, Dennis shifted in his seat. He didn’t want Dee to leave. “No, no, no- that’s not necessary.” Dennis assured the doctor. His feelings needed to stay inside his head, buried as deep as they would go. Without Dee, he felt exposed.

“I just think it would be beneficial to speak to you privately.” the doctor commented, placing his notepad facedown on the table, hiding what he’d written. 

“Me?!” Dennis incredulously exclaimed. “You think it would be beneficial to speak to _me_ in private?! The guy who did psych at Penn, the guy who is in complete and total control of his emotions!” Dennis yelled emotionally. “Yet you don’t wish to speak to _her?!_ ” Dennis aggressively gestured towards Dee. “The woman who slips into shockingly inaccurate accents for no apparent reason, the woman who set her roommate on fire!” 

The doctor glanced at Dee, wondering if he should speak to her privately too. 

“ _She_ is the one who needs a psychiatrist, she is the fool, not me! Not the Golden God!” Dennis vehemently yelled, apparently experiencing a messiah complex too. The doctor immediately reached into his draw to retrieve his wallet, growing increasingly desperate to assess Dennis. 

“Here. Here. Take it. Take it.” the doctor hurriedly passed twenty dollars to Dee, with a layer of sweat building on his brow.

Dee grinned and sadistically laughed at Dennis, jumping up from her seat. “Later, bitch.” she taunted, flouncing out of the room. 

“No, no! Dee, stay!” Dennis pathetically pleaded, reaching for her gangly, bird arm. She stopped in her tracks and looked into Dennis’ eyes with an expression of pure compassion. He breathed out with relief that he wouldn’t have to talk about his big feelings alone.

“Awwww.” Dee cooed, sympathetically rubbing Dennis’ shoulder. “Suck my dick.” she deadpanned, then promptly waltzed out the door. 

“I- I- but, Dee-“ Dennis spluttered, also getting up from his seat to follow Dee out of the room. 

“I’ll give you twenty dollars if you stay.” the doctor blurted, concerned about Dennis leaving unmedicated. He instantly stopped and coldly stared at the doctor. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. Was he going to make the doctor into furniture?

“Twenty dollars?” Dennis asked, in the need of some extra cash. Frank was docking their wages and there wasn’t much cash in the register to steal. The doctor quickly nodded and reached back into his draw, so Dennis calmly sat back into his seat. This could be interesting... “Now, in my time at Penn...”


End file.
